Hostage
by Fleuramis
Summary: I different version of what happened when Grimaud kidnapped Aramis in Season 3, Episode 8.


I redid this story, when it was discovered that I had written Treville in as Captain yet, and Dr. Lemay still alive-lol! Thanks to my wonderful reviewers for pointing these out to me. Another reason I treasure my reviewers!

I was terribly dissatisfied with how Aramis was treated by his brothers after the rescue in Episode 8. All season long, it was building up how Grimaud hated the Musketeers 'interference', and also showing how he dealt with people who crossed him with sheer violence and brutality, and now he had a Musketeer as a captive? The lack of worry and concern, both before the rescue and especially after it, just didn't sit well with me, and I suspect, many others. This is an attempt to put a different perspective on it. Please let me know what you think. Your reviews of my work are always a blessing to me.

Hostage

Aramis had almost made good his escape. He had succeeded in unlocking the shackles on his wrists while at a full-out run from Grimaud's henchmen, only to have his nemesis appear before him on his horse, returning from Paris. Grimaud aimed a pistol at Aramis' head, stopping his flight cold. Aramis, having heard Grimaud tell his men, "Don't shoot", turned on the men chasing him, shoving them in the chest, before turning back to Grimaud, saying, "You need me alive". Grimaud responded, "But not intact", causing Aramis to freeze at the threat implied to him.

He was dragged by his arms back towards the ruins they were using for the upcoming prisoner exchange. He tried struggling, but one of them slammed his pistol against the side of his head, rendering him half-conscious. They stopped near the walls, stripped him of his doublet and shirt, regardless of the cold temperatures. Then, they bound his wrists tightly, and threw the rope over an overhanging branch of a tree, stretching his arms above his head. When he came back to full consciousness, he almost wished he hadn't.

Grimaud was striding towards him, his face livid. He stopped in front of Aramis, and said, "You will regret your attempt to escape, Musketeer." He walked away, coming back swinging a pair of shackles on a long chain. His men moved away from Aramis, and out of the way. Aramis' body involuntarily tensed as he realized from the look on his face that Grimaud was going to use them against him, but he was helpless to do anything to defend himself.

Grimaud stopped directly in front of him, gripping the end of the chain and growling, "You and your friends have been a thorn in my side for far too long, Musketeer," saying the word 'Musketeer' as if were a foul word. "You are going to be my means to teach a lesson none of you will soon forget. I cannot mar your face, or anything else that would show, but there are other areas that do not show", swinging the chain as he finished speaking.

They were swung across Aramis' chest, and he felt fiery pain erupt. The chain slammed into his chest, while the opened shackles curled around and hit his back. The edges of the opened manacles on the chain tore at his skin. Grimaud was just beginning. He swung again, hitting Aramis across the chest, over his rib cage, again and yet again, then hitting higher, causing Aramis to scream in pain as the shackles wound around his neck. He was completely helpless to Grimaud's continuing attack. Aramis lost count of the number of times he was hit. The pain was making him nauseous when it finally stopped. Grimaud still wasn't finished, as he came close and slammed his boot heel against Aramis' ankle, probably breaking it from the force. Grimaud leaned close, and said, "You won't be escaping anywhere now, will you?" Aramis was barely conscious by now.

Then, at a signal from Grimaud, the rope stretching him upwards was cut, and he fell limp as a ragdoll to the ground. The men roughly lifted him back up, and put his doublet back on, regardless of the torment caused by anything coming into contact with his back right now. Grimaud did not want the wounds showing during the prisoner exchange. At a signal from Grimaud, he was dragged back into the ruins, and once more lifted to hang from the wooden beam. The position he was hanging from had caused difficulty breathing from the first, and with his injuries, especially where the chain had struck his neck, the difficulty multiplied.

Grimaud stood in front of him, looking up and saying, "I do not want you warning your friends where you are", obviously a threat implied if he made any sound that would let them know he was there. But he was having trouble just trying to keep from passing out, and drawing enough breath into his lungs. He didn't want to be unconscious when his brothers arrived for the exchange, and hoped they would arrive quickly.

It seemed like forever in his dazed haze of pain before he heard shots ringing out somewhere beyond the ruins he was hanging in. Grimaud's head shot up at the sound, realizing they were under attack. Aramis could only hope and pray that they would be victorious and soon, as he felt the darkness encroaching upon him.

Porthos had attempted to climb through an opening that used to be a window, but was stopped by a hulking henchman of Grimaud, engaging in a knock-down, drag-out fight, before finally thrusting home a killing blow.

Grimaud's men had taken Aramis down. Grimaud and one other of his men maneuvred a weakly struggling Aramis out of the ruins, intent on using him as a shield for protection.

Grimaud had not counted on Porthos having ended his fight and following them. Now, he heard Porthos shout, "Stop!"

Aramis was weakly trying to convince Porthos to shoot, to rid the world of the menace holding him hostage. Porthos loved his brother too much to risk hitting him by trying to get Grimaud. Then, a shot rang out, hitting Grimaud's henchman. Grimaud fired back, causing Aramis to grimace at the pain of having a gun fired right by his ear.

With most of his men eliminated from the Musketeers attack, Grimaud shoved Aramis to the ground and headed for one of the horses, mounting and riding away. D'Artagnan aimed for Grimaud fleeing on his horse but hit nothing, and screamed in frustration.

Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan raced over to Aramis, crumpled up on the ground. He was bloody, his hands chained in front of him. His breathing was ragged and harsh, the position he had been hanging in for two days causing his lungs to struggle breathing. "This is Grimaud's signature. He meant this as revenge against all of us," Athos murmured. Porthos and Athos gently turned Aramis over to check for injuries.

As his back touched the ground, however, Aramis arched up screaming in agony. They hurriedly, yet gently, removed his doublet, afraid of what they might find. The damage to his torso was extensive. It was covered in long, large reddish-purple bruises from his shoulders to his waist, even one encircling his neck. They couldn't tell what had made the marks, but the bruises were deep, and probably had damaged some ribs. They just hoped nothing else was damaged inside.

Athos said, "We need to turn him over to see what caused his reaction when we laid him down."

They maneuvered him as gently as they could, gasping in shock when his back was revealed to them. It was covered with deep bleeding gashes, almost looking carved, extending even up onto his neck. What had Grimaud used on him to do this?

Carefully lifting him and carrying him back inside the ruins that had been his prison, they gently laid him down. They decided to keep him on his right side as they cleaned and bandaged his wounds. His wrists were terribly bruised also.

D'Artagnan said, "I saw shackles hanging from a wooden beam as we came in. I think they may have kept him hanging from them while he was here."

Athos commented, "Grimaud made sure that what he did to Aramis would not be seen by us during the prisoner exchange. He obviously had him stripped of his shirt and doublet before tormenting him, then put his doublet back on to cover the evidence, heedless of the material further rubbing against the wounds he had caused. He is truly a monster."

As they began their ministrations, Aramis awoke, panting in gasps that tore at their hearts. He began struggling, eyes closed, thinking Grimaud was tormenting him once again.

Athos leaned close, murmuring words of regret to Aramis that they had arrived too late to rescue him before Grimaud had a chance to go to work, and telling him they were going to clean and bind his wounds.

Porthos leaned down close to Aramis' ear, whispering, "It's us, Aramis. We won't hurt you, brother." Then, he laid his hand on Aramis' ankle, not knowing about what Grimaud had done there, and Aramis moaned in agony.

"Somethin's wrong wi' his ankle," Porthos said, feeling really bad that he had caused more pain for his brother, even though he hadn't known about the ankle.

Aramis went still beneath them, and then a moment later, his eyes finally opened. "Porth...?", he croaked.

"Yeah, it's me. Just lie still. Athos is tryin' to find out what Grimaud did to you."

"Aramis, is the ankle broken?"

Aramis silently nodded his head, then whispered, "K ... kicked me."

Athos continued, "Do you know of any other injuries? Your chest and your back?"

Aramis nodded again. "Hit me...with the sh...shackles. Br...broken ribs. The ed... edges of the...open sh ...ackles...ripped my skin. Pun...punished me f...for tr...trying to escape." He was having trouble speaking, gasping the words out a few at a time.

"Anything else?"

"Hit me... in the... head ... a couple of times. May ... have a con...concussion." He said this as his teeth were chattering, and the others then realized that, without a shirt in the near freezing weather, they needed to get him warm before pneumonia was added to his woes. Porthos and d'Artagnan got blankets, and wrapped them around him as carefully as they could, trying to avoid touching his injuries, while Athos got Aramis' medical kit from his horse.

They cleaned his wounds, wrapping clean strips around his torso and neck to stop the bleeding and protect his ribs, then wrapped his ankle.

They wondered, too, if he had been given anything to eat or drink in the two days he had been held, and sadly concluded probably not. Porthos carefully lifted his head and shoulders up just enough for him to be able to drink, and d'Artagnan put the water skin to his lips. Aramis drank like he had never tasted water before, confirming their belief that he had been given nothing by Grimaud.

His three brothers silently looked at each other, infuriated by the cruelty they saw visited upon their beloved brother. Athos already had a deep-seated rage against Grimaud for the attack he had been the victim of some time earlier, and for the man's earlier attempts to kill his brothers. Now, the man had nearly tortured Aramis to death, while also hijacking the delicate negotiations the Queen had been trying to cement with her brother. They had all wondered if it was well-advised for Aramis and the Queen to even have been secretly attempting something the King and even Treville knew nothing about, but he knew their intentions had been to bring peace to a country torn and bleeding from a long war.

They carefully carried Aramis to the wagon containing the Spanish prisoners. Porthos climbed up first. Then, Athos and d'Artagnan lifted Aramis up into Porthos' waiting arms, who laid him down on several more blankets in the wagon, hunkering down next to him like a loving mother hen, protecting her young. None of them knew if Grimaud was still in the neighborhood. Anyone meaning harm to Aramis would have to come through Porthos. Athos sat on Aramis' other side, softly ruffling his hair to soothe him. Athos had a loving and gentle side to him that was not often seen. He dearly loved his brothers, and there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for them. Right now, his heart was torn at what had been done to his brother.

They wouldn't be leaving their friend's side until they had reached the garrison in Paris. There was no extra room for d'Artagnan, so he climbed up on the seat in the front of the cart, where he had a clear view of his brothers as they began their return journey to Paris.

As the wagon jolted its way out of the valley they had been in and onto the road to Paris, Porthos saw how the harsh movements caused Aramis further pain. Without any further ado, he lifted his friend's upper body onto his lap, sheltering him from the worst of the wagon's bumpy movements.

An hour or so later, Aramis began to get tremors throughout his body. He started saying something softly that sounded to Porthos like Spanish words. This got the immediate attention of the Spanish prisoners, startled that a French Musketeer was speaking their native tongue in an unconscious state, as if it came naturally to him.

One of them asked Porthos about what they had heard, but Porthos couldn't understand a word of what was being asked. The man pointed to Aramis, and made a movement to indicate mouth and speech, trying to understand why Aramis would be speaking Spanish. Porthos then understood, but couldn't respond in words, just saying, "Mother". The word for mother was madre in Spanish, and it was close enough to mother that they understood.

A little while later, one of the prisoners made a motion that he would like to help, and Porthos motioned to Aramis' wrapped ankle, indicating that he could keep the ankle on his lap to stop the motion of the wagon from causing it to spasm in pain.

Porthos was amazed that a little incident such as this could bring people closer together, to assist each other. He thought, maybe Aramis' God is really there, after all.

During the long journey back to Paris, Aramis' body was continually wracked with tremors. There wasn't much more they could do until they reached the garrison and sent for a doctor, and they hoped they wouldn't be too late. They were so happy when the gates to the garrison were within sight.

As the wagon passed the gates, d'Artagnan shouted for Minister Treville at the top of his lungs when he saw him striding across the garrison courtyard. Treville had come to the garrison in response to Athos' report, which he had sent ahead with one of the cadets. He responded by moving rapidly across to them when he saw the looks on their faces.

"What happened to him?" he demanded.

"Grimaud took out his frustrations with what he saw as our repeated interferences in his 'business' dealings," Athos replied. "I will tell you the rest later, but we need to get Aramis into the infirmary, and send for a doctor as fast as possible."

Treville immediately sent one of the cadets for Dr. Marteau, Queen Anne's physician, knowing she would approve, and then assisted Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan in getting Aramis inside and laid sideways on a bed. Once there, they divested him of everything but his braies, Treville wincing in shock as he saw the extent of his injuries in the brightly lit infirmary. The nasty bruise marks were even more horrendous looking seen in the brightness of multiple lanterns hanging from the walls, and his ankle was massively swollen.

Treville had noticed how they had made sure Aramis was laying sideways, and now asked why. Athos told him, "Grimaud began beating Aramis with the chain and shackles, and he did it with the shackles opened. He has obviously done this before, as he knew just how to hit Aramis' body so that the chains caused the bruising damage you see on his chest, but the shackles curled around his back and neck. When they hit, the open ends caught in his skin, ripping it open and causing deep gashes. Grimaud wanted to do as much damage as possible in revenge."

When Treville saw for himself what Athos had described, the hardened warrior blanched and words came from his mouth that were rare even for him.

Then he said, "The Musketeers are going to hunt Grimaud and his band of savages down once and for all. He deserves a public hanging. Stay with him. Dr. Marteau should be here very soon. I am going to talk to the King."

He stalked out of the room, still boiling at how one of his finest soldiers had been abused.

Aramis' head began restlessly moving back and forth, as he moaned from the pain. His brothers each reached out in silent support with a hand in his hair, on his arm and his leg, stroking in soothing rhythmic motions to let him know they were there and that he was safe. Finally, the movement stilled, and a moment later, his eyes fluttered as he tried to open them.

Athos whispered, "Aramis, it's Athos. Open your eyes for us, brother. We are all here for you."

"You are safe now, Aramis. We wish we could have got here sooner,"d'Artagnan said softly, his eyes matching Athos and Porthos in their sorrow.

Finally, Porthos leaned in and in a barely audible voice, said, "We couldn't do what ya asked, Aramis. We love you, and it would ha' broken all our hearts to take your life. Your life is our life also. Fight to survive for us, brother, please."

All three settled in on chairs around Aramis' bed, not wanting to leave him for a moment. It was always their way. When one of them was sick or injured, it was almost as though the other three could feel his pain in their own bodies. They wouldn't leave him until he pulled through (all three never for a moment letting their minds be open to the thought of "what if he doesn't"). It wasn't an option for any of them.

It wasn't for another hour or so that Dr. Marteau made his appearance. Porthos and d'Artagnan were pacing the floor, fuming that no doctor had come yet. Athos, calmer on the outside, sat unmoving by Aramis' bedside, anger building at the delay, even though there had to be a very good reason for Dr. Marteau's tardiness.

` They finally heard a knock on the infirmary room door, and Dr. Marteau came in. He apologized for the delay, saying one ladies at the Court who was a favorite of the King had gone into labor. Looking at Aramis, he looked shocked. "Who did this to him?" he asked. He could tell it hadn't been a freak accident of nature that had caused the brutal marks on Aramis' body. Someone had tortured him. And he hadn't even seen his back yet.

Athos spoke, explaining, "He was captured by a group of thugs led by a man who resented our 'interference' in his reign of terror. He took out his anger and frustration on him. He beat him with a chain and shackles. As I told Minister Treville, he knew just how to swing the chain so that it hit him full in the chest and shoulders, while the shackles, which had been left open, curled around and tore at his back wherever they hit him. Then, he kicked the side of his ankle, breaking it, in retaliation for Aramis attempting to escape."

Marteau couldn't believe what had been done to Aramis. He told them he would do his best to close the wounds so they wouldn't become infected, but it had been many hours since they had been inflicted, so he couldn't yet guarantee anything. The fact that Aramis hadn't come down with a fever yet was a good sign, but he told them he had seen delayed reactions also, so they weren't out of the woods yet.

He politely asked everyone to leave before he performed the examination of his patient. This was practically guaranteed to leave Porthos pacing back and forth in front of the door, giving it nasty looks as if it had been the one to kick him out of his friend's presence. Athos just leaned against the infirmary wall with his arms crossed, looking for all the world as if he was patiently waiting. Those who knew him well could tell how he was coiled tight inside, worried sick about his beloved brother. And d'Artagnan, the newest of the group, but no less caring about his brother, stood quietly to one side, glancing up at every sound as if it was Marteau coming to tell them his news. They were all on edge in their own way, hating to be away from Aramis when he needed them. They knew how he needed to feel their touch and soft words when he was sick or injured. He was a very tactile person, loving and needing to feel loved in return.

Dr. Marteau emerged some time later, shaking his head from the injuries he had seen. He told them to keep Aramis as still as possible, change the dressings twice a day, and call him immediately if he developed a fever or the wounds became infected. He said he would be there as quickly as possible if he was called, and then left.

Aramis was not conscious when they re-entered the infirmary. His breathing was still labored, and he was restless again. They settled around his bed, none of them wanting to be anywhere else. Once again, they each settled a hand on his shoulder, a leg, the top of his head, gently soothing him with their touch. They knew they were incredibly lucky to have got their brother back alive, given Grimaud's hatred of them and his track record of brutality. Worry was in their eyes when their eyes met over the bed, silently hoping their friend would not be taken from them now.

It was not until the next day that their brother once again started showing signs of returning consciousness. They could see his eye movement under his lids, and then, his lids began to flutter, trying to open.

Porthos said, "Come on, brother. We're all here with you. Can you open those big brown eyes for us, please? We have been awfully worried about you."

Almost in slow motion, Aramis' began opening his eyes, squinting against the light as he did so. D'Artagnan went and closed the shutters on the windows when he saw how the light hurt.

Finally, he opened his eyes, looking around with a dazed expression.

Athos said, "Welcome back, Aramis. How do you feel?" Each time he had awakened, they hoped he was out of the woods, and felt better.

Aramis tried to speak, but he was so dry, nothing came out. Porthos grabbed a cup of water, and held it to his friend's lips for him to drink.

Once more, Aramis tried speaking, this time it was a little easier. "It hurts."

That panicked his friends, as Aramis always denied his injuries or illnesses, sometimes exasperating his brothers when they found out he was covering up. For him to tell them he hurt meant he was in a massive amount of pain. Their hearts were breaking at what he had been put through.

Aramis barely finished the water before he had fallen asleep again. They had hoped they could get him to eat a little broth, but it wasn't to be.

That night, he began to become restless, his head turning from side to side. Athos laid his hand on Aramis brow, and turning to d'Artagnan quickly, told him to go find Lemay.

Aramis began tossing and turning, saying, "No...no...don't," probably reliving Grimaud's torture. Athos leaned over him, holding his shoulders down gently but firmly for fear of Aramis disturbing the dressings on his back. "You are here with us, Aramis. No one can hurt you now, brother. Be at peace for us."

Gradually, Aramis settled down, and finally with a little whimper, he became still.

Aramis had developed the fever they had all hoped he would avoid. By the time Marteau arrived, it had climbed higher, and Aramis was sweating and moaning in pain.

Porthos was afraid they would be kicked out again like last time, but instead he surprised him by asking them to assist him in attempting to cool Aramis' fever down.

He had them bring a large tub of lukewarm water to the infirmary, and then lift Aramis into it, holding on to him so he didn't slide under the water. Then, he had Athos further bathe Aramis with cool cloths, and they rotated doing this among the three of them at intervals. Aramis struggled at first, not understanding what was happening to him, but quieted down when he felt the gentle, soothing touches of his brothers.

The physician didn't want to use cold water or cloths, as the shock of cold to his hot body could be too much of a shock for his system, hence the lukewarm tub and cool cloths instead. Gradually, after several long hours, it began to work on his heated body, and his skin started feeling cooler to the touch. He also slowly began to breathe more normally, not as ragged as before. They all looked at each other, beginning to hope their brother would pull through.

Marteau finally intructed them to take him from the water and lay him back on the bed with a light blanket only. He checked Aramis' wounds, and was pleased that the redness was a little faded now. He gave Athos some pain medications and a mixture to put on the gashes next time the dressings needed to be changed.

It was morning by then, and Marteau told them, "I will be leaving now, and I am hopeful for his outcome if no more stresses exert themselves on his body. As before, please call me if there is any change whatever."

They thanked him as he left, then went back to settle themselves around their brother's bed.

Throughout the next day, he slept almost continuously. His body was obviously exhausted, not only from the highly visible torment Grimaud had put him through, but also from hanging from the wooden beam for nearly 2 days. It had torn the skin of his wrists badly, and caused a lack of feeling in them. His shoulders were swollen from being twisted upwards for many hours. It also had given him a very bad time getting enough breath in his lungs.

He only became half-conscious for a few minutes that day. They really needed to get some food into him, as he probably hadn't eaten since he had been kidnapped. But at least he was finally getting the rest he so badly needed.

They were so atuned to their brother's needs that it only took a very soft moan from him early next morning for all three of his friends to be alert that he might be awakening. Sure enough, after a few moments, they were overjoyed to see his eyes open. They were as yet unfocused, so they waited patiently for him to become cognizant of his surroundings before they spoke.

Aramis was incredibly groggy. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a headache throbbed mercilessly, making him dizzy even lying down. He gradually became aware of three sets of eyes looking silently at him. He looked at each of them slowly, and tried to smile. But moving anything right now was not an option, apparently, as his headache went up several notches with any movement.

From the looks in his brothers' eyes, he must have really given them a scare. The relief reflected on their faces at his opening his eyes made him feel both guilty for being the cause of their worry, and also very loved and cared for at the same time.

"Welcome back, Aramis," Athos said. "How do you feel, brother?"

He attempted to answer, only to break into coughing. Porthos hurriedly grabbed a cup of water and held it to Aramis' lips, figuring he was too dry to speak.

Once he had drunk about half a cup, Aramis tried again. "As long as I don't move, I can handle it." He saw Porthos and Athos roll their eyes at his comments.

"We know how fine you are when you downplay your injuries, brother," Athos said. "We saw your face when you weren't quite awake yet. It reflected the pain you are experiencing. You need to stay still and let your body heal. We are just going to make sure that you stay put in bed, rest, take Dr. Marteau's medicines, and do not try anything until he tells us you can. Is that understood?" he said, in the way only Athos could do.

"I hear you. How long was I out?"

"Most of 3 days, Aramis," D'Artagnan replied. Your wounds became infected, and we worked with the doctor to bring a high fever down. But you've come through it now."

Porthos looked at Aramis sternly (but with a smile in his eyes), as he said, "Don't ever do that to us again, you hear?"

Aramis just smiled at him, and then his eyes moved to each of them in turn, his heart very full. There had been times since he had returned that he felt he was unwanted, the other three having shared so much while he was gone that he couldn't be a part of. But just seeing the love and concern in their faces told him he had never lost his brothers. They were still all for one and one for all. He was indeed blessed with his friends, his brothers.


End file.
